


There For You

by leparolelontane



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Internet Acquaintance, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leparolelontane/pseuds/leparolelontane
Summary: Ermal, who is lonely and depressed, texts a random number in search of a friend. Fabrizio is the one who receives the message.
Relationships: Ermal Meta/Fabrizio Moro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [There For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266139) by [nightconfessions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightconfessions/pseuds/nightconfessions)



> Hi, this idea has been in my head for about two months and I finally decided to write it. I hope you like it, if so please let me know, I will really appreciate it.

Everyone has their bad days, right? Days when it seems that you can no longer control your life, when all the weight of the world suddenly falls on your shoulders, forcing you to bend and fall to your knees, no matter how you try to resist it. The longer you struggle, the more you weaken, and in the end, on one of these beautiful starry nights, you find yourself alone in your own apartment, pinned down by this concrete slab that does not allow you to breathe. And the worst thing at this moment is that you know — it's not an accident, which means there will be no rescuers, no one will reach out to pull you out from under the rubble. You did this to yourself, so you'll have to save yourself.

It wasn't the first time this had happened to Ermal, though he'd never considered himself weak. On the contrary, anyone who knew him closely would say that he was the strongest man he had ever met. Nor was he completely alone, there were always people around him who were genuinely concerned for their friend, no matter how unbearable his character might be sometimes. He appreciated it, really appreciated, but that was the reason why he couldn't share all the things that weighed on him. He was so used to being a sarcastic asshole, making jokes that an unused person would consider offensive, that now the opportunity to open up to his friends seemed completely inappropriate. That innate pride of his, damn it.

The cold night air was bone-chilling when Ermal stood on the balcony, flicking the ash from his cigarette before taking another puff and looking up again at the warm glow of the city lights. Usually he liked to watch them, they gave him a sense of calm, mesmerizing, leading him into a kind of trance, where he could be alone with his thoughts. But today everything seemed to be different. The rays of light flowing from other people's windows, which had previously warmed them, now gave him an understanding that people were spending time there with their families, they were happy because they knew they were not alone in this world.

Wasn't there a single person in this city, or even in all of Italy, to whom he could open up? Did he ask for something forbidden or unattainable? If other people had the opportunity to be heard, then so could he. He was no worse, he just needed the courage to take the first step towards the unknown.

He returned to the room and carefully closed the balcony door behind him, settled back on the bed and began his search. He had heard that there were websites on the Internet where people left their numbers in the hope that someone would write to them, but there was no need to use it. At least until now. Leaving your contacts was somehow a little scary, and what is the probability that out of hundreds (thousands? Ermal had no idea about the size of such databases) a random stranger will choose your number? A faster and more effective way was to write to someone yourself.

After spending a few minutes searching for the right site and registering — which, however, turned out to be easier than he had feared — he finally got access to what he had come for. The various numbers were arranged in neat columns on several pages, and the country codes indicated that their owners were living all over the globe. Of course, Ermal knew several languages, so he would have no problem maintaining a conversation, for example, in English, which would have given him a much greater choice, but for some reason right now something told him to stick to Italian.

So he used the country filter function and peered at the numbers on the screen. How can he choose one number now? Should he choose the first one he sees, or should he look at all of them first? Deciding that he had neither the time nor the desire to torment himself with searching, he closed his eyes, scrolled through the list several times, and stopped his finger on one of the numbers. It was no different from the others, but if that was what fate had decided, let it be.

Ermal tried to imagine the person who owned it. Is it a woman or a man? What age? What does he do, what interests him, does he have any hobbies? But based only on a combination of faceless numbers, it was difficult to come to any conclusions, so the he stopped wasting his time on useless divination. He just needed to write a message, and everything would be clarified in the course of the conversation. Taking a deep breath, he thought for a few seconds and tapped his fingers on the keyboard.

 **[Ermal]:** _Hi, I found your number on the site and thought maybe you wouldn't mind chatting?_

After clicking «send», Meta put down the phone and wrapped his arms around his knees, resting the forehead on them. It was quite possible that he had now made the greatest mistake of his life. Maybe many people had already written to this person, so he would not even be interested in talking with Ermal. Or he himself wrote some banal nonsense that no one would like to answer. Or, after all, his potential interlocutor was already asleep and did not expect some stranger who writes to him at 2 AM with the desire to talk.

"What an idiot I am," he said, and fell back on the bed, burying his face in the pillow, almost hoping that no one would respond to his message and he wouldn't have to make a fool of himself any longer.

* * *

Many of us strive for harmony — this serene and calm state, when everything is in its place, and your soul is not disturbed by anything. And Fabrizio could even say that he had achieved it, because he had everything that he could only dream of: a spacious house, wonderful children and music, which not only provided for him financially, but was also the main business of life. He did not have to complain about his life, it had been much worse once upon a time, but still, from time to time, he felt that something was missing.

This feeling led him to searching sites, although he was still not entirely sure what he wanted to find there. It was unlikely that he needed a relationship — Fabrizio was not one of those people who could easily open up to a new person at this level and he also was not sure that the children would want it. Was he looking for a friend? Yes, that was probably the closest definition, even if it wasn't entirely accurate. He needed someone who could understand him, share his ideas, and most importantly, someone he could trust completely. But, to his great regret, he had not felt anything like this with anyone yet.

It was fair to say that by this point, after a series of unsuccessful meetings, he had almost given up trying. Fabrizio only needed a few messages to understand which way communication with this or that person will go, because there weren’t so many ways, in general. With someone he did not fit the character, some, who learned about the media side of his personality, tried to take personal advantage from their acquaintance. Of course, at first it upset him, but after a while he got used to it. He didn't need anyone to feel alright, of course, he had been doing it for so many years and would continue to do it.

Just when Fabrizio had forgotten that he had left his phone number on one of the websites a few weeks ago, and was relaxing in front of the TV in the living room, muted the sound and hoping that at least it would attract sleep to him, a message came to the phone. He glanced at his watch and wondered who could possibly need him at this time, because at 2 AM people only wrote on urgent business, or did not write at all. Reaching for the phone, Fabrizio picked it up from the table and found a message from an unknown number.

The first impulse was to simply leave it unread and go to bed, he could answer in the morning, but something told him that this was an urgent case and it would not wait until morning. He unlocked the screen, attentively looked through the lines, biting his lip thoughtfully, and decided that this would be the last time he do it, and if it didn't work out, he would leave the whole stupid internet acquainting idea.

 **[Fabrizio]:** _Hi, I'll be happy, I still can't sleep today._

He hadn't realized at the time that this night conversation would be just the first of a long series and would give him even more than he'd ever wanted to get.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of the notification made Ermal lift his head from the pillow, he had been lying in this position motionless since sending the message. Only a few minutes had actually passed, but it seemed like hours to him. Occupied with his own not-so-rosy thoughts, Meta repeatedly imagined various scenarios, but none of them boded well.

So this message was a saving straw for him, which he eagerly grasped, emerging from the dark pool of thoughts. Sitting up again, Ermal picked up the phone and looked at the message that appeared on the lock screen. It was the same number he had sent the message to not so long ago. So this thing really worked? Or was it just he so incredibly lucky to have someone willing to respond to his message, even under the circumstances? In any case, he wasn't going to try his luck again, so he quickly typed a reply message and sent it to the other person.

Contrary to all the stereotypes that young girls are mostly interested in such acquaintances (not that Ermal believed in them), the person on the other side of the screen was a man, and quite pleasant to communicate with. There was no excessive constraint or caution in their conversation, which is usually shown at the first meeting. Ermal didn't have to choose his words in fear of intimidating him, because it felt as if whatever he said would not be judged, but rather understood and accepted. The other man even made him laugh a few times, which had not happened to Ermal for quite some time.

They had an astounding number of topics to talk about, and they shared views on most issues. Their conversation flowed smoothly from one topic to another, whether it was music, in which they were both extremely interested, movies, or some things that could be considered philosophical. It amazed him, even with some of his friends he didn't feel this level of connection, and it was established so quickly, as if they had known each other for many years, but for some reason had forgotten about it.

Everything was going so well that Ermal lost track of time and did not even notice that dawn was beginning to break outside the window. He should have gone to bed, because he had business to attend to during the day, and the lack of sleep at night would certainly not make him look much better. Except that, unlike the other man, he didn't feel guilty for making them sit up so early, and he would have liked to have stayed for a few more hours, but it wasn't all up to him.

**[Fabrizio]:** _I am extremely grateful to you for keeping me company tonight, but I am getting sleepy. I'll text you in the morning? Or like when I wake up._

Ermal couldn't help but smile stupidly. As much as he wanted to sit longer and learn more about this man, he couldn't force him to sacrifice his sleep. Him. Only now Ermal realized that he hadn't even bothered to find out the other's name.

**[Ermal]:** _Sure, as soon as it's convenient for you. And can I at least know your name?_

**[Fabrizio]:** _Of course, I'm sorry. Fabrizio._

**[Ermal]:** _Ermal. Good night, Fabrizio._

**[Fabrizio]:** _Good night, Ermal._

Putting down the phone, he lay back and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened to him in the last few hours, paying particular attention to the conversation. It went even better than he could have imagined. For the time they had been talking, Ermal had completely forgotten what had been bothering him before, he was so engrossed in the conversation, and now all he wanted was the "morning" when Fabrizio would write to him. There was so much more they could tell each other, he was more than sure. With this happy sense of anticipation, Ermal crawled under the covers and fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

When he awoke, the sun was shining directly into his face, and his alarm clock was showing ten o'clock. Today he was dangerously close to being late for the rehearsal that was scheduled for eleven, but when his mind cleared a little after the dream and he remembered why he had gone to bed so late, Ermal decided it was worth it. He checked his phone first, hoping to find a new message, but it was empty. It’s okay, Fabrizio is probably still asleep, he will write a little later. In the meantime, Ermal added his number to contacts, signing it with just his name, and went to get ready, so as not to increase the length of his tardiness and along with it the disapproval of his friends.

However, even the refusal of breakfast and the car ride could not save him as much time as he slept, so the musician entered the studio ten minutes later than expected, already mentally prepared for what was waiting for him.

"Look who's here," came the voice of Marco, who was slumped in a chair and immediately turned his attention to Ermal. "Our sleeping beauty doesn't look so good today."

"Oh, fuck off," Meta said without rancor, tossing his backpack on the couch and choosing not to mention the reasons why he hadn't slept until sunrise, had dark circles under his eyes, and his curls were even more disheveled than usual.

Montanari didn't press the point, because otherwise his friend looked much better than he had recently. Ermal's eyes were bright again, and he was smiling and checking his phone more often than usual. This was a significant change from even yesterday, which made him wonder what had happened to Ermal in the short time they had been apart. Marco decided that he would ask him after the rehearsal, since he was much more inclined to share happy news, and this was clearly one of them.

The rehearsal was held in an easy and fun atmosphere. In a few days they were going to have their first concert on a real stage, so each member of the band was a little nervous. Before that, they performed mainly in small bars or restaurants, where the audience always warmly received young and talented musicians.

At first, they performed various covers or songs that were ordered by visitors of the place, and then gradually began to alternate them with their own songs. Many people were interested in motives that had never been heard before, the guys received only positive feedback and often a good amount of tips from grateful listeners. However, it had been a long time and now they were going to perform on a completely different scale, where anything could go wrong, even though they had worked hard during the writing of the album and during rehearsals.

Ermal seemed to worry most about this, he was always very critical of others and especially of himself, because he wanted everything to be perfect. It was all very important to them, so no one could blame him, even when he was a little carried away. He could be short-tempered, sometimes rude, but his friends did not hold a grudge against him, and on the contrary accepted him for what he was. That was one of the many things Meta valued them for.

After the end of the rehearsal, before saying goodbye and going home, the entire band stayed for a smoke break to chat a little more and discuss the latest news from their lives. Ermal stood a little apart, listening with half an ear, and seemed to be engaged in some lively messaging. Marco decided this was the perfect time to start a conversation while the others were too engrossed in their own.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked cautiously, walking up to his friend and leaning his back against the wall, mimicking Ermal’s pose.

"Best of all, why do you ask?" it was an obvious attempt at bravado, but Montanari was not easily deceived. The fact that Ermal didn't let anyone help him didn't mean that the guitarist didn't notice his moods and didn't try to do something.

"Ermal, don't make a fool of yourself, we both know exactly what I'm talking about." Marco shook his head maintaining the pause, then continued. "But you do look more... happy today. If I didn't know you, I'd say you fell in love."

His expressive gaze fell on Ermal’s phone, and he immediately put it back in his pocket.

"No, I just... met someone here. And you're right, I really feel better, I'll be fine by the time of the concert," Ermal put his hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling encouragingly.

"You know it's not the concert I'm concerned about, it's you," Montanari replied seriously, meeting his gaze, then softening and smiling slightly in return.

"I know, Marco, I know," Ermal assured him, and turned when he heard voices at the door. "It seems our guys are ready to leave, let's go to them?"

Together they returned to the others, who, having had their fill of conversation, were beginning to say goodbye to each other. Ermal hugged everyone in turn and promised to meet them the day after tomorrow during the final rehearsal, and then walked briskly to the car, his thoughts already in conversation with a certain Roman.


	3. Chapter 3

The drive home was uneventful, and even though it was late in the evening, there were almost no cars in Bari, so Ermal didn't have to spend most of his time standing in traffic. Today, however, he would have liked to make a few stops, because his hands were itching to reach for the phone, which vibrated periodically with new messages in his jacket pocket. But no, they were still on the steering wheel, and his eyes were fixed on the road, and he would have a long time after he arrived at his apartment.

When Ermal entered the apartment, he answered Fabrizio first, and then went to the refrigerator in search of what might be his dinner for the day. He'd been in the studio almost all day, and they didn't have time for a proper lunch, because the pizza they'd ordered at halftime and divided up into five people was unlikely to be it. There wasn't much on the shelves either, and Ermal made a mental note to restock the next day, then quickly made himself a small portion of pasta and ate it with relish.

Satiety and fatigue after several days spent in stress and almost no sleep, made itself felt as soon as he settled on the sofa in the living room. His whole body seemed to be against repeating yesterday's night. Until the last moment, he tried to keep his eyes open, but after an hour, he gave up and fell asleep, not even finding the strength to undress or walk to bed.

Regret for this came to Ermal almost as soon as he awoke. Judging by the time, he had managed to make up for lost hours in a few days, which was very good, except that the position in which he had spent the night (and all morning, to be exact) made his neck, shoulders, and back ache wildly. Holding on to the back of the sofa, he managed to sit up and then get to his feet, cursing himself for having fallen asleep in that position the night before.

As he searched for a solution that would bring his muscles out of their numb state, he thought of a few pilates exercises that had remained in his memory after Sabina had once dragged him to a class. Her brother didn't share her enthusiasm for this kind of physical activity, but he couldn't describe the time he spent in the gym as agony either. In addition, as it turned out, it really helped not only to get rid of the pain, but also to feel much easier overall. It must be a sign that today is going to be a good day.

Ermal spent the first half of the day shopping, because it seemed appropriate to refresh his wardrobe before his first concert, and besides, a young man did not always need a good reason to buy a few colorful shirts. Along with them went home a pair of black jeans and a fair amount of accessories, such as rings and beads, which he liked to complement his looks. Also on the way, he did not forget to stop at the supermarket, already in anticipation of making up for his meager breakfast.

Another half hour, and all the purchases were in their places: things were neatly hung and laid out, and the food was put in the refrigerator. Satisfied with his work, Meta sank into a chair and pulled out his phone, reading the new message. For some time now, he and Fabrizio had been conversing on the subject of music, finding a large number of points of contact, which made Ermal gradually feel that he could trust his new acquaintance. He told him about what he was doing, about the upcoming concert, which caused Fabrizio genuine interest, judging by the way he was now inundating him with questions.

**[Fabrizio]:** _So you are performing in Bari? I would love to come, I never mind listening to good music, but unfortunately I have things to do that day._

**[Ermal]:** _Why are you so sure that our music is good, if you've never heard it?_

**[Fabrizio]:** _But we can fix it, right? Besides, I have a feeling that you couldn't have written something bad, you can call it professional flair._

This man's confidence in a person he had known for less than two days made Ermal smile. But the first sentence... Did Fabrizio want him to sing one of their songs?

**[Ermal]:** _In that case, I'll trust your feeling. Do you want me to sing something to you?_

**[Fabrizio]:** _Yes, that would be great… But only if you want to, of course, and if you don't, that's okay too._

Meta thought for a few seconds, but couldn't find a single reason why he shouldn't. Usually he was not particularly interested in the reactions of critics, who often sought to find disadvantages in any work, but now he was really curious about what their music would think of a person with more experience in this field than the one Ermal had.

After asking Fabrizio to wait a few minutes, he jumped up from his chair and soon returned with a guitar in his hands. After fiddling with the instrument settings for a while, he thought about which of the songs would be the most appropriate. Until then, their repertoire was heard only by casual restaurant visitors, and then it was more some individual pieces than full-fledged compositions, so since then they have changed and improved them a lot. At least, Ermal hoped so.

After settling on one song that he had a special feeling for, and convincing himself that a man would probably like it too, he pressed the call button. He didn't have to wait long, because Fabrizio was already ready to pick up the phone as soon as he saw a familiar name on the phone screen. He was always interested in getting to know young musicians, sharing his experience, and discovering their potential if they needed his help. This kind of interaction had always inspired Moro, he saw how some guys and girls literally blossomed before his eyes, gaining confidence in themselves and their music, which made the union of the creator and creation only better.

A few rings, and a slightly hesitant greeting came from both sides. This was their first live conversation, and even though they couldn't see each other, it still felt a little strange. Fabrizio noticed that he was unconsciously twirling one of the bracelets on his wrist, and Ermal's hands were shaking slightly as he placed the phone on the table next to him so that he could hold the guitar with both hands. However, all this awkwardness and nervousness disappeared as soon as he began to sing, forcing the man to cling closer to the phone speaker.

He could have sworn it was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard in his life, and there were many of them. The timbre of his new acquaintance softly enveloped, penetrated into the soul and awakened there something cherished, but at the same time deeply hidden. Fabrizio didn't even have to listen to the lyrics to understand what the song was about — bright images constantly appeared in his mind, as if the musician was drawing them in his head, using words, intonations, accents. Even when Ermal became quiet, he didn't realize it immediately, because the echoes of the song were still inside him, resonating with his entire body and sending warm impulses through it.

"It was incredible," said Fabrizio, after a long silence, which the young man had almost taken as a bad omen.

"Do you really think so?" Meta said with a hint of hope that did not escape the man's attentive ear.

"I do. Even more than that, if all your other songs are at least half as good as this one, you will have a great success not only at the upcoming concert, but also throughout your career."

Ermal even for a moment was speechless. It would be a lie to say that he had never imagined thousands of people coming to his concerts, singing with him, smiling or even crying because of his songs. But only now, when another person had said it, this possibility seemed so real that he actually believed it. This is no longer just his dream, it is his future.

"But now I'm even more sorry that I can't hear you," Fabrizio's words snapped him out of his reverie, and Ermal put the guitar down on the floor beside him and picked up the phone.

"You can come back later and I'll give you a private concert," he blurted out before he had time to think about it. The realization hit him a second later, and he was about to say that he was just joking, but it was too late.

"Great idea. I can't promise to be in Bari right away the next day, although I will try. I'll probably check it out tomorrow and let you know when I make a final decision."

Ermal had not expected this turn of events, but Fabrizio's visit was clearly a pleasant surprise, not to mention how easily he agreed.

They talked for some time, discussing the concert, Moro taking it upon himself to give him some useful advice and wish him luck, and then they said goodbye. From that moment on, the young musician could not let go of the feeling that events in the next few days were going to happen that would change his life forever, and he could not wait for them.


	4. Chapter 4

Of all the rehearsals, the final one is the most responsible and the most joyous. On this day, you are particularly aware that you have already come a long way, which was not easy and did not always go uphill, but you have invested a lot of effort and are just a step away from your dream. Only it now separated Ermal from the spotlight, the opportunity to make a statement, and the hundreds of interested people who would be watching with burning eyes what would be happening on the stage.

Yes, it might not have been much for somebody, but it certainly was for him. Of course, he did this for himself, but his primary task was always to bring his music to other people. The music that was pure, bright, though sometimes not devoid of sadness, but it inspired hope, because Ermal knew firsthand what it means to a person and how sometimes you need it. A ray of light in the dark and a quiet voice that tells you that you are strong and you will cope — this is what he wanted to become for his listeners.

The next day, when Ermal stood against the wall of the vast backstage maze, he was extremely quiet. It usually didn't promise anything good, because this lull was followed by a storm, but today everything was a little different. He just stood there, looking almost into total darkness, with a light burning somewhere in the distance and occasional flickering multicolored rays, which meant that the last light checks were being made.

Ermal needed this time alone before the most important event in his life at the moment. To remember what brought him here. To understand what's most important right now. To imagine what lay ahead. As these three pieces came together in his head, he realized that he was ready to face his fate, and then, lifting himself from the wall and taking a deep breath, the he went to the dressing room to join the rest of the band, who had probably already lost him. The concert was just under an hour away.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Rome, Fabrizio was making final preparations for the trip. Despite the fact that the road from the capital to Bari takes only four and a half hours by car, he could not just leave everything and leave. There were a few business matters to be settled first, and Giada had to be asked to take the children for a couple of days, which she easily agreed to, though not without a little questioning about why he needed to go to another city so urgently.

It was difficult to hide anything from his ex-wife, including the unusual enthusiasm with which Fabrizio spoke about a young and promising musician. He might not have put it into words, but Giada could see it clearly in his eyes and tone. It had been a long time since she had seen him like this, and the worry in her chest was growing, but now it was as if a second life had been breathed into him, and she could only hope that this trip would not be a disappointment. In their hearts, they both hoped so.

In the evening, Fabrizio could not resist the temptation to go online and check out the concert in Bari. The reviews were overwhelmingly positive, which was not a surprise to him, but still he was happy to make sure that he was right. Instagram was filled with photos and stories that most often featured a young man with a thick pile of curls that flew in all directions as he ran or skipped across the stage. Despite the fact that Fabrizio had no idea what Ermal looked like, one look at this luminous chaos was enough to know that it was him.

Meta really looked fascinating. Fabrizio had seen many singers who were over the moon during their debut performance, but none of them looked so free. It was like the stage was in the only place he really belonged. It was obvious that he was giving his best, sparing no effort and energy, which undoubtedly energizes the hall. Ermal became one with the stage and his audience, while many professional singers have been striving for this level of unity for years. To achieve this during the first concert was something truly outstanding.

Fabrizio felt a deep respect for his colleague (friend?) and decided that it would be appropriate to congratulate him on his successful performance and at the same time tell him the details of his arrival. Even if he was busy celebrating, Ermal would still see the message in the morning.

**[Fabrizio]:** _Hi, Ermal! I've heard the news of your successful concert, so congratulations on your big debut. I saw a few clips, you did everything at the highest level, I would never have thought that this is your first time on a real stage. And if our meeting is still on, I'll come tomorrow afternoon, about three o'clock, you can get some sleep ;-)_

Contrary to assumptions, Ermal's response was not long in coming. It would be stupid to think that, after talking to his family, he was waiting for this message, right?

**[Ermal]:** _Thank you very much, Fabrizio, it was really amazing! I've never felt anything like this before, all these people, they looked at me, they sang with me, even if they didn't know the words, it's fantastic. I feel so happy, I never want to forget this day._

**[Ermal]:** _I will wait for you tomorrow! I'll give you the address later, as soon as we're done here._

**[Fabrizio]:** _All right, I'll go to the hotel first, leave my stuff and then go straight to your place._

**[Ermal]:** _To a hotel? I thought you were staying in my apartment… Of course, I don't have a second bed, but I'll have no problem sleeping on the couch. I already feel bad about getting you out of Rome and out of business, and now you have to spend money on a hotel._

**[Fabrizio]:** _First of all, I agreed to this trip myself, I wouldn't do it if it interfered with my plans or wasn't worth it, and second, 24 hours in a hotel won't hit my budget._

**[Ermal]:** _But still, Fabrizio? Please?_

**[Fabrizio]:** _Well, if you ask me to, I'll stay the night at your place. Only I'll sleep on the couch._

**[Ermal]:** _We will discuss this later. See you tomorrow, Bizio!_

Bizio, then? It sounds rather unusual, but Moro couldn't say that he didn't like the new nickname. Besides, something told him that once Ermal had made up his mind about something, it wasn't easy to talk him out of it. For the same reason, he didn't insist on spending the night at the hotel, and also because Ermal’s message sounded almost upset when he found out about his plans.

Now Fabrizio had official confirmation of tomorrow's trip, so he decided it wouldn't hurt to pack today. There weren't many of things, though: battered jeans, a fresh t-shirt and shirt, and toiletries — all of which fit easily into the backpack. When he finished, he went back to social media to look through photos from the concert, and after seeing no negative reviews, he went to bed with a sense of happy anticipation.

At eleven o'clock in the morning, Moro was already at the wheel, heading down the road to the south-east of Italy, where the sea was just a stone's throw away. The air in Bari was not as hot as in Rome, and it was also more humid, but the climate of his native city was never a problem for Fabrizio. The air conditioning in the car was working good, and the ride didn't take longer than expected.

At two-thirty, he crossed the city line and, after making one stop at a music store because he thought Meta deserved a little gift, rang the intercom at the appointed time. A familiar cheerful voice greeted him, and Ermal let him into the entrance, after which the man quickly climbed several flights of stairs, stopped at the right door and, taking a breath, knocked.


End file.
